Paramount Pictures
From left, Jackson Nicoll is Billy and Johnny Knoxville is Irving Zisman in "Bad Grandpa."

I saw it. It was unmistakable and clearly written on the faces of some of my fellow movie enthusiasts as I walked into the Tuesday night screening: “What’s a nice critic like you doing in a movie like this?”

What indeed ….

I justified my misguided behavior because not only were the choices very limited this week, but this film was the only one I could attend. After all, how bad could it be?

How bad indeed ….

You may be wondering what this dubious film could possibly be? It’s “Bad Grandpa.” Now, there’s bad, and then there’s REALLY BAD.

Really bad indeed ….

I survived the scene where Johnny Knoxville, starring as Bad Grandpa, tries to convince his grandson’s father, in an online chat, to take custody of his offspring because dear old Mom is going back to jail. By the way, the despicable father only agrees when his girlfriend — who we only can identify by her on-screen bellybutton — reminds the loving dad that he’ll get $600 per month assistance if he agrees. He agrees.

But Grandpa has to deliver the boy halfway across the country.

I survived the stuffing of dear old departed Grandma’s body into the trunk of Bad Grandpa’s turquois Lincoln. She’s going along for the road trip because our sensitive senior can’t simply leave her behind after the “misunderstanding” with the funeral home. Can he?

I survived the attempt at mailing the boy to his father when our elderly hero decides he just can’t take the road trip. I could relate. I could hardly take it, either.

I even made it through the shoplifting episode that finds these two stealing a meal made from items purloined along the grocery aisles. And I even endured Grandpa leaving the little boy in the car while he goes into a bingo parlor to drink the fluid from bingo markers and hit on the elderly bingo babes.

Sounding good, huh?

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But, I finally hit the wall when Grandpa leaves his grandson in a motel room while the octogenarian slithers out to find a male strip joint so he can put the moves on the women who are watching the main show. What follows is indescribable, and I belatedly clocked out.

I will never know if Grandpa got his babe. I’ll never know if the boy made it to his mercenary dad. I’ll never know if Grandma got a decent burial … and I’m the richer for it.

I’ve walked out of quite a few films over the years, but none deserved it more than “Bad Grandpa.” Rated R for revolting, this film is a total turkey.